The Van
by the little spanko
Summary: NON-CON SPANKING OF AN ADULT IN THIS STORY! Neal disregards Peter's warnings, and Peter doesn't like Neal risking his life. Spoilers for Season 2 Episode 5.


"There's plenty of places in there to plant a bug," Neal said after getting in the van, dressed as Mr. Black in tight black jeans, form fitting black tee, and black leather jacket.

Peter turned and gave him a firm look that made it clear the idea was out.

Widening his eyes in a look he hoped was childishly convincing, Neal continued softly, "…if you wanna go that way. …It'd be smart."

"No," Peter snapped emphatically. "Absolutely not. Not when there are guns at play."

"Come on," Neal pushed, "just consider it."

"Neal," Peter warned, fixing Neal with a glare. He wanted this discussion going no further.

"Peter," Neal said, a slight whine to his voice, "it's a good plan. Let me go back in and plant a bug. It's the easiest solution."

"I'm not risking it, Neal," Peter said with a final sweep of his hand, fixing Neal with yet another no-nonsense look. "No way are you going back in after you've threatened to extort Halbridge, it's too dangerous. The four of us are gonna sit in this van and see what he does now that you've got him worried. That was the plan."

Dianna and Jones didn't seem to mind at all, turning back to their screens and equipment when they heard Peter wasn't changing plans, but Neal immediately rolled his eyes in dramatic fashion. He hated the van. He hated working with Sara Ellis. He hated not having the tape from Kate's plane. He hated being told what to do … though he had to admit that it was a bit nice to know that Peter obviously worried about him. _But still. _

Slumping dejectedly into a free chair, Neal thought about recent events. It had been a harrowing couple of days. The sudden reappearance of Sara Ellis, a white collar bounty hunter who spoke against him at his trial and who still wanted to nail him for stealing the Raphael painting, had grated on his nerves and put him on edge – especially when Peter had made it clear that he'd have to play nice with her. The fact that she was bullying him, much to the delight of his _supposed_ team, didn't help matters. Neither did his most recent undercover job. They all knew Mr. Black was an integral part of the case against Halbridge, a wealthy businessman whom Sara was convinced had stolen Japanese bonds; they just didn't know how – or who he was.

Thinking it was harmless, though preparing with mobile back up teams and a wire, they sent Neal in as Mr. Black since their intel made it clear that Halbridge had not yet met him and didn't know what Mr. Black looked like. Little did they know that the limo that picked Neal up would be able to block the wire signal and, more importantly, that Mr. Black was a hit man hired to kill Sara Ellis. The night ended with Sara pointing a gun in Neal's face, which Neal would never admit to being terrified by, and the two of them quickly hitching a plan to pretend he'd killed her.

Wiping a hand over his face and through is greased hair, which was a look that he was surprised didn't bother him, Neal tried to take a calming breath. It was difficult pretending that he was normal after Kate's death. He didn't like free time because all he could think of was her. He needed to be doing something, moving – not sitting in a smelly van in a broken chair that he was quite certain was going to slide his vertebrae out of alignment!

"Pe-terrr," Neal whined, "this van smells funny."

Peter cast an unbelieving eye towards his young CI. The unflappable Neal Caffrey wasn't whining like a two year old – was he? And yet, Peter took in the tightly folded arms, the pouting lip, the heavy scowl aimed right at him, and then the kick to the cabinet of equipment that Neal gave as he huffed – yup, his sophisticated, prideful twenty something CI was definitely pouting.

It should have annoyed him, but it was too funny an image. Especially with Neal dressed as a tough guy assassin. Peter gave Neal the raised eyebrow look at the kick, a look that always snapped Neal right back in line.

The look had the desired effect, though it was more exaggerated than usual: huge kitten eyes overcast in worry, held breath, and knit brow as Neal all but whispered _'Ooohhh!_.'

_Well, something's up,_ Peter mused. He knew Neal wasn't ok after Kate's death, he'd known for a while, but he didn't know how to approach the subject. It was then that he remembered El's push to be there for their friend.

"You alright?" Peter asked him tightly, hoping Neal would say he was, ever uncomfortable with touchy feely stuff.

"Yea – fine," Neal answered blandly even as his arms and legs were tightly crossed in a classic grumpy posture.

"Unfold your arms, you'll wrinkle your clothes," Peter playfully joked before turning back to Jones' screen. He knew Neal wasn't exactly being honest, but he didn't care – he'd now be able to tell El that he had, in fact, finally talked to their young friend.

"Yea, the day I take fashion advice from _you_…" was as far as Neal got before wilting under a true Peter Burke glare. Suddenly Neal became very interested in the state of his cuticles.

Peter turned back to the computer monitors.

During the next few minutes, Neal spent his time glaring at his surroundings, shifting in his lopsided chair that had a loose screw, purposely causing said chair to squeak, and then huffing. ….not that anyone seemed to notice any of it. No, they were much too intent on watching nothing happen, which was particularly grating on his nerves today.

Looking at his watch, Neal grit his teeth. They were already late for lunch and everyone seemed settled in for the long haul. Feeling his stomach growl, Neal decided to take action.

Just as Neal opened his mouth to beg for a lunch run reprieve, Peter pulled out a deviled ham sandwich.

All hell broke loose.

"Peter, no!" Neal all but yelled, sitting up so hard in his chair that his feet made a booming noise on the van floor.

Both Peter and Jones had jumped at the unexpected sound, and both swiveled in their chairs to look at the irate Neal before them. Dianna just looked over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

"You _know_ I hate stake outs, you _know_ I hate your smelly sandwiches…" He stood, hands clenched into fists and jaw rolled forward, shaking in anger. "You tricked me into thinking you were taking me to Montivello's to eat yesterday and you're even enjoying making me play nice with Sara - you're doing this just to be mean to me," Neal accused.

Jones snorted and shook his head while Dianna turned to fully face Neal with one hand on her hip. Peter was oddly calm; Neal had expected a full blown Burke rant but instead simply got a war between irritation and patience from the older man.

"_Neal_," Peter said in exasperation, taking a deep breath he continued much more calmly, "I'm not doing anything to be mean to you. This is the job and this is the sandwich I like to eat. You've had a hard couple of days, just sit back and relax for a while. El packed enough for everyone."

"Yea, like I could eat smelling what _you're_ eating," Neal griped under his breath as he glared at the opposite end of the van. He could feel Peter glaring at him and he withered, and after a few seconds he took a glance towards Peter.

Peter sat unmoving with eyes narrowed, his mouth in a thin line. It made chills go up and down Neal's spine and he dropped back down in his unwieldy chair. Yet, it was somehow comforting: a familiar reaction to his action; a controlling, yet caring, reaction to his mis-action. Neal knew he was acting like a child and he knew how this would end if he kept it up….it's just that somehow, deep down, he knew he needed to keep going, if only for his own sense of security.

The glare softened as Peter watched the wheels turning in Neal's head before Peter finally gave him an irritated, yet somewhat amused look. Holding out a wrapped baguette Peter asked, "Want your sandwich?"

Neal eyed him sullenly before shrugging and giving an almost imperceptible, "I dunno."

"Come here," Peter said, pointing next to him.

Neal froze, eyes wide. _What's he doing? He wouldn't do it in front of them, would he?! _

Peter caught the fear and tried to brush it from the air with his hand as he restated in a firm tone, "Roll your chair over next to me and eat."

Jones and Diana were just catching on that something was off, being way too caught up in the delicious sandwiches and sides that El had provided.

Neal swallowed and rolled his shoulders, but stayed where he was.

Peter's shoulders dropped and he huffed. In a flash he was up from his own seat and next to Neal. "If you don't start behaving, you're going to have an even harder time sitting in this van, mister. _Got it_?" he breathed into Neal's ear as he took ahold of the chair and began rolling it towards his own.

Neal flinched and blushed at the warning, wide eyes darting up to meet Peter's and then searching out Jones and Diana to see if they'd heard. From the confused looks on their faces, it didn't seem as though they had caught anything but the warning tone of Peter's whisper, but that didn't make Neal feel any more comfortable.

"_Peter_," Neal griped, swatting Peter's hands so he could roll his chair himself.

Peter let his own swats fly, catching Neal on the back of his right hand. "Don't smack me," Peter chided over Neal's indignant 'ow.'

Now in place next to Peter's chair, Neal folded his arms and furrowed his brow, staring at the ground.

Peter took his seat and set Neal's sandwich down sharply in front of the young CI. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," Neal tried just as his stomach growled.

Peter raised his eyebrow and looked purposely at Neal's stomach.

Neal pursed his lips, surprised he was about to grin, and quickly grabbed the sandwich and unwrapped it. It wasn't until two hefty bites in that Neal looked to the side and saw that Peter was watching him with that amused, yet irritated look that often meant trouble. Neal stared back in feigned innocence and confusion until Peter narrowed his eyes. At that point, Neal decided it was time to see what sides were left.

For the next four hours they sat in the hot, smelly van and continued to watch nothing happen. Neal endured none of it stoically, and instead spent his time trying to either find logical reasons for him to leave and go back to the office, or on some errand, or attempting to irritate the three agents into sending him away for their own sanity…..or whining. Nothing worked, and as the hours rolled on, even Jones and Diana were grumbling to themselves about wanting to smack him.

Peter, unwilling to give in to what amounted to a daylong tantrum, wouldn't budge and instead kept them there until they'd just have time to return the van, do paperwork, and leave by five. His grimace got deeper and more pronounced as the day wore on, as did his scoldings and quiet threats.

Finally, though, the time had come: "Alright team, let's call it a day," he declared, which got sighs of relief from everyone. Never before had they cleaned up so quickly after a stakeout, and soon they were on the road back to the FBI office.

_Fiiiiinally, the torture is __**over**__,_ Neal thought to himself as they pulled into the FBI garage to return the van. Neal was determined not to spend another day like this and so he slunk back to the drawer of bugs in the van as the three agents went over the checklist they needed to fill out before turning in the van. He waited as they finished, the picture of innocence as he watched for an opening to snatch a bug. _Peter won't mind too much after the fact, _Neal convinced himself,_ especially when his clear percentage goes up again._ Then, with the paperwork finished, Diana and Jones started to make their way from the van.

"Tell Brad that the back tires need some air," Peter was calling after them as Neal turned and silently slid open the drawer.

One moment Neal's fingers were slipping into the drawer and around a bug, the next he was hopping into the air and yelping, hands flying back to cover his butt from further assault.

Spinning to face Peter in indignation, Neal couldn't help the full flush of embarrassment as he noted both Diana and Jones smirking out of shock and turning away quickly just outside the van.

"Ow! _Dooon't_," Neal whined under his breath as he glared at Peter.

Peter held Neal's gaze, "I told you – _not when there are guns at play_. You're to stay away from Halbridge, and if you don't I'm going to give you the spanking of your life. Is that clear?"

Neal was taken aback by the threat, blushing even harder as his eyes met the floor. "Yes sir," he said before quickly correcting himself with "Yea Peter, I got it."

"Let's get moving," Peter said as he pointed the way for Neal, his eyes narrowed in satisfaction. He liked the slip up, knowing it meant that both he'd gotten through to him, which would keep Neal safe, and that Neal was starting to lean on him again, which would hopefully mean a better and safer path for his young friend.

Neal followed behind the group on the way to the elevators, not really wanting to face Diana or Jones just yet. In addition to all the other emotions pulling at him, Neal now also felt resentment towards Peter for swatting him where others could see.

On the elevator he chanced a few glances at the two agents to gauge their attitude. Though there were meaningful looks being exchanged between the two of them, he noticed the occasional grins were more awkward than anything.

"Hey, good work today," Jones finally said when their eyes met. "You got out of Halbridge's real smooth."

"Thanks," Neal said with a small grin, grateful for the gesture. He felt the knot in his stomach loosen just a bit.

"Your night as an assassin must have been really harrowing," Diana chimed in with a smile. "You seem to of handled it really well. A lot of people would be wound tight after that."

Neal laughed and bounced on his heels. Getting praise from Jones was one thing, but Diana? It was obvious they were going out of their way to make him feel comfortable, and he was surprised by how much he appreciated what they were doing. "I would admit to being wound a little tighter than usual," he admitted playfully with a megawatt smile before his face took on a mock serious expression, "but I'm sure you guys couldn't tell at all, right?"

The chorus of laughed noes washed away most of the remaining unease he felt, and soon the elevator opened to their floor.

There was little for Neal to do, and so a few minutes after arriving Neal decided to head home to find other things to busy himself with. On his way out the door, Peter appeared at his side.

"Remember what I told you," Peter said to him, wanting to make sure Neal wasn't thinking of doing something dangerous.

Instantly irritated, Neal bit back, "Yea, I said I did," and stormed out.

Peter watched him go, worried that he'd pushed too hard.

Neal knew he needed to act. Not to break the case or for any sort of heroics, but rather to save himself from the thoughts going through his head. He couldn't let himself continue breaking. He didn't want to feel weak and out of control, and maybe he needed someone to step in and rescue him. After so long as a criminal, and with the tragedy of Kate's death, he just couldn't be a responsible adult any longer. Not that he ever was – but lately he was closer to it than he'd ever been. _Enough with playing it safe_, he thought to himself, _enough with the rules_.

Neal flipped open his phone and dialed Mozzie as soon as he hit the sidewalk. "Hey, it's me," he said when Mozzie answered.

"This Chianti is delightful Neal, you really should have gotten more than two bottles," Mozzie said happily.

"Clearly," Neal answered sardonically, slightly rolling his eyes. "I need you to do something for me," he then said with a scheming grin.

"Ask and ye shall receive," Mozzie responded, excited.

Neal smiled fully and explained his basic plan and need of a bug, though he omitted the dangers of the day and those of what he had planned.

"Suit won't authorize a bug?" Mozzie asked, a bit confused as to why his handiwork was needed.

"He'd rather have me sitting in a van for days on end doing surveillance. I want to speed the process up," Neal said with a sigh. "I think he's developed a taste for torturing me."

"Well, I'm always glad to help, but won't Suit torture you more when he finds out you've gone behind his back?"

"Not when it helps him clear the case in record time."

"Is there anything you're not telling me?" Mozzie asked, still confused as to why Peter wouldn't authorize the use of a bug.

"Only that he's been bringing his sandwiches on the stake out again," Neal joked.

"That's just evil. I'm in," Mozzie responded immediately, though he still wasn't fully convinced.

Neal slipped back home where the bug was waiting for him, made some small talk with Mozzie as he waited for the sun to set, and then set out to stake out the best way into Halbridge's place.

Still in his Mr. Black uniform, Neal had waited until he knew Peter and El would be having dinner and then made his way back to Halbridge's place. He was on the second step when a hand clamped on his shoulder.

"You're in big trouble now, buddy," Peter ground out from behind him, pulling him onto the sidewalk and spinning him around.

"Peter!" Neal breathed stupidly, his mind taking a moment to catch up.

"Did you really think I didn't see this coming?" Peter asked caustically.

All Neal could do was widen his eyes even more as a response.

"Let's get you home," Peter said after slightly shaking Neal.

Neal followed Peter to the car, and stepped in as Peter held the door for him. _Home_, Neal thought, hoping that he'd gotten a reprieve from the threat Peter had leveled earlier that day. The ride was painfully silent, and Neal knew he shouldn't of been surprised when they wound up at the Burke's home, but he was.

"Let's go," Peter said.

Neal swallowed and stayed put.

"Neal," Peter warned.

Neal unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, which prompted Peter to exit the car, which is when Neal panicked and hit the lock button, quickly closing his door.

Taking a deep breath, Peter simply walked to Neal's door and hit the unlock function on his keychain as he went to open Neal's door. Neal hit the lock button on the door again before Peter could open it. They went back and forth this way three times before Peter finally lost his temper:

"Neal, knock it off! You're in enough trouble as it is!" Peter yelled as he bent over to be face to face with his miscreant.

Neal shook his head and muttered, "I'm not getting out of this car, Peter," even though Peter couldn't hear him.

Peter straightened and huffed, and another game of lock-unlock ensued. Neal once again proved to be the winner.

The sudden appearance of El is what changed the tides. She appeared like a storm cloud, stomping out the front door and towards the car with clicking heels that made Neal flinch. Getting to the car, she bent so that their faces were level. The glare she leveled him with made him shiver.

"Neal, you open this door. _Now_," she said in a no-nonsense motherly tone.

Neal obliged her despite himself, and was quickly scooped up by an irate Peter.

"You made this much worse for yourself, mister," Peter breathed as he started pushing Neal towards the house.

Reacting before he had time to think, Neal dug in his heels and squawked, "Nooo!"

"Yes," Peter growled, giving Neal a quick swat and then frog marching him forcibly towards the house.

Every time Neal pushed back he got another firm swat, propelling him forward with a high pitched yip.

"Peter!" Neal cried out, both in panic and in anger, his mind working overtime trying to find a way out of this situation. Peter just pushed harder.

When they reached the threshold, Neal threw his hands and feet out, blocking their entrance. "Peter, just stop, ok? Listen to me!"

"Neal," El called out in a disappointed voice from behind them.

"Oh, I'll be listening to you, alright," was Peter's verbal response. His physical response was to rain down a flurry of hard swats across both of Neal's upper thighs, which had Neal yipping in short order. Soon Neal couldn't help dancing to get away from them, and one powerful shoulder drive from Peter sent them both stumbling into the house.

El shook her head, her brow crinkled. She happened to note some neighbors watching from windows and she gave them a weak smile and a little wave before scurrying into the house and closing the door.

By that time a wrestling match had ensued, with Neal making noises similar to a cat and her husband making irritated growling noises. "Oh boy," she said to Satchmo, who'd planted himself in front of the stairs and was watching the proceedings with confused interest.

"You are going to take your punishment, Neal, one way or another," Peter said around a lot of grunting, trying to wrestle Neal towards the couch.

"Am _not_," came Neal's childish retort as he held his own with Peter.

"Ok, enough," El called out. When she didn't get their attention, she bellowed "ENOUGH!"

Neal jumped and spun to face her in midair, eyes as large as saucers and mouth agape, a strand of slicked hair falling down in a curl over his forehead. Peter, stunned but not that surprised, took the opportunity to get a firm grip on Neal's arms from behind. Both men stood there panting, giving her their full attention.

Putting her hands on her hips, she gave Neal a disapproving look. "This stops now," she said, feeling her face soften even as she said it. The poor thing looked terrified. Not that she blamed him with what Peter told her he was going to do to him when he saw the direction Neal's anklet was headed earlier that evening. Neal had gone way too far tonight. They could have lost him for good – he could have been _killed_, and the worst part was that he knew it. He knew it, he was warned more than once, and he tried it anyway.

Neal raised his eyebrows and mewled pitifully at El's command, having no intention of giving up his struggle with Peter. He wasn't going to just give in and agree to take the spanking of his life! And what had Peter said out by the car? …that he'd made it 'much' worse? No, he wasn't giving in to something like that. He needed El on his side, maybe she could talk sense into Peter.

"Elizabeth, please," Neal started. "He's overreacting, it wasn't that bad," Neal tried.

"_**Overreacting?!**_" Peter started, but quieted when El started in over him.

"_Wasn't that bad?_" she asked in a deceptively cool tone, taking a few steps towards them.

Neal mewled again and tried to back up, but Peter held him firm.

"Is that what you just said to me?" she asked, folding her arms.

Widening his eyes, Neal smiled nervously, "I, uhhh – well."

El narrowed her eyes at him, making Neal swallow, "Do you have a good grip on him, hon?"

"_Elizabeth?_" Neal asked nervously.

"I do," Peter said with a grin.

"Good," she said, "Because before I get my hairbrush for you…"

"_Hairbrush?!_" Neal gasped. "Wait. _**No!**_"

"…I'd like to let Neal know what I think of his actions myself," El continued, making Neal's eyes again widen in surprise.

Neal immediately began struggling as she walked behind him; Peter pulled both of Neal's arms up behind his back and leaned on him so that Neal was bent over.

"El, don't – please!" Neal begged pitifully.

"You almost broke my heart tonight," she said, and then her hand came cracking down in a high arc across his right sit spot. Neal drew his right knee up towards his chest and gasped, but soon her hand descended again and again.

"I'm sorry!" Neal said quickly, his eyes already prickling. "Please don't!"

"What would we of done if you'd been killed?" she asked him with real anger in her voice, her hand falling rapidly, soon making Neal dance as tears of regret and shame fell. "You're family, Neal."

She lit into him for what seemed like an hour to Neal, though in truth was only a few minutes, and just as he started to sniffle she stopped.

Walking in front of him, she looked down into his face with his trembling chin, cupped his face in her hands and kissed his forehead. "Never again, ok Neal?"

A sniffled "Never again" was all Neal could muster.

"I'll be right back," she said as she wrung out her hand on her way to the stairs.

"She _spanked_ me," Neal said in a crushed, watery voice.

"Someone made Mommy angry," Peter teased as they watched El ascend the stairs.

"Does that mean I get a reprieve from Daddy?" Neal tried with a smile in an attempt to regain bravado, but he immediately cringed and blushed at his use of 'daddy.'

"No," Peter chuckled and then began wrestling Neal towards the couch once more.

Even though Neal still struggled with all his might, it was much easier for Peter to maneuver him now that he had Neal's arms pinned behind his back.

"No, no, no, no, **no**," Neal whined as they made it to the couch.

"_Yes_," Peter hissed, sitting while tugging Neal along with him up and over his lap.

"I don't agree to this," Neal jabbered a bit insensibly as Peter held him down, "Peter! I don't agree to you doing this!"

"Too bad," Peter said, slipping his hand around to unhook Neal's tight black jeans, freeing Neal's arms. "You never do."

"No!" Neal yelled, twisting and flailing as he tried to get away from Peter. "Don't!"

"I'm not using a hairbrush on you without seeing if I'm doing damage," Peter explained as he succeeded in his task and moved on to shimmying Neal's jeans down with his right arm while his left was tightly wrapped around Neal's torso, hugging him to his hip.

"Trust me, you'll be doing damage," Neal insisted, still fighting as best he could to no avail.

The click of El's heels on the entry floor had them both looking up. Neal was just glad that Peter hadn't divested him of his boxer briefs yet, though he still blushed furiously. He didn't want Elizabeth seeing him this way. He preferred is usual suave persona, and – honestly – would prefer just about any persona to the one he was depicting at the moment!

El politely kept her eyes away from Neal's shame, quickly handing the large brush to Peter and then dipping in for a quick kiss.

Ruffling Neal's hair and then kissing him on the top of his head, she looked at him pointedly and said, "Satch and I will be in the back, be good. C'mon Satchmo." She then turned the tv on, turned the volume up, grabbed a book and her glass of wine, and headed out the back door with the dog.

Once the door was closed, Neal twisted around to look at Peter with childlike innocence, "You don't have to do this, Peter. Really! Everything up to this point has scared me straight. I promise! And El already spanked me, and I'll follow your directions to the letter when there are guns."

Peter tried not to snort in laughter at Neal's bargaining, but it just simply struck him as too funny not to. His classy, sophisticated young CI was dressed like a tough little assassin in all black and attempting to bargain his way out of a spanking like a child. In fact, Neal had acted like a child all day – and Peter had treated him as such the best he could. Peter knew Neal had been through a lot, and thought this may be a coping mechanism. He wasn't about to let his friend down by letting him off the hook.

Neal's look of hopeful pleading was quickly replaced with an indignant pout when Peter had laughed.

"I don't like this, Peter," Neal whined.

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," Peter countered. When Neal looked at him as though he were crazy, Peter continued, "Maybe not what's coming, but I think you wanted this exact sort of attention and that you went out of your way to get it."

"Did not," Neal said in a sour tone.

"Mmhmm," Peter answered, pushing Neal's black jeans down a little further so that, when it was time, he'd be able to get at the backs of Neal's thighs.

Neal immediately began squirming again. "Stop it," he snapped, throwing a hand back to try and grab his jeans.

Peter swatted the offending hand away, and over an angry 'Ow' from Neal said, "I'm _very_ upset with you, Neal. I warned you over and over today not to go to Halbridge's, didn't I?"

Giving an irritated huff, Neal ground his teeth. A moment later he also gave a high pitched _yipe_ as Peter surprised him with a firm handed swat that landed across both of Neal's sit spots. "Yeeesssssss," came the snotty response soon after.

Peter landed another swat in the same place, and this time Neal jolted up a bit from the sting.

"Enough with the attitude," Peter scolded.

In response, Neal kicked his booted foot against the couch and growled.

Peter wasted no time in heating up Neal's backside with his hand. When Neal tried snaking his hand back to cover himself, Peter warned, "You keep that hand in front or I switch to the brush now."

"Peeeteeerrrrr," Neal whined, going for sympathy points, "it huuurtsss."

"Good, maybe this will teach you not to go behind my back and get yourself in danger every chance you get!" Peter put more strength behind the swats, aiming them all low and hard as he turned Neal's sit spots a deep shade of pink.

That response worried Neal. Usually he'd get a softer response from Peter and the punishment – while it wouldn't end – wouldn't get much worse. This time his pleas only seemed to be making Peter angrier! "I didn't want to sit in that van anymore!" Neal yelled at him as his legs began twitching from Peter's worsening attention.

"Too bad!" Peter yelled back. "Not everything's going to be exciting!"

Neal went quiet for a moment, other than the 'ahs' and 'ows' that were beginning to escape his lips, as he felt some of his outrage slip away. He knew he really had pushed Peter all day long for this direct result. It's just that right now the reason why had escaped him. The pain was already building and they hadn't even moved on to the brush yet. They weren't even _close_ to being done!

"Sometimes the job is going to be boring, there are going to be things you don't like," Peter was lecturing as Neal started listening again.

"I'm not good at being bored!" Neal snapped in spite of himself.

Peter huffed and rolled his chin, "Well, let me give you an incentive to get better at it!"

Neal knew what was coming, but still couldn't contain the whimper when he felt his boxer briefs being ceremoniously yanked down. Nor could he prevent himself from the instant flailing because, well, getting spanked on your bare ass was just about the worst thing you could endure as a grown man. He wasn't about to simply lay there and take it!

He kicked his legs and elbowed Peter with both arms while rolling back and forth in an attempt to squirm free. All the while Peter was making short irritated noises at him that Neal was pretty sure were supposed to be actual fully formed words.

Neal was getting pretty close to being free when the unthinkable happened. He kicked Peter right in the side of the head. Hard.

Both men stilled instantly: Peter due to pain and Neal from shock.

"Are you ok?!" Neal asked in a panic.

"Ah," was Peter's pained response as he leaned over on Neal and rubbed his head.

"I'm so sorry!" Neal apologized, twisting to look up at Peter and see if he was ok.

"You _kicked_ me in the _head_," Peter said in a shocked voice before turning to glare at Neal, holding the side of his head all the while.

"I didn't mean to," Neal insisted, eyes wide with fear.

"What did you mean to do then?!" Peter yelled at him, and then: "What did you _think_ would happen?!"

"I just – are you ok?"

"No I'm not ok, you just kicked me in the head," Peter snapped at him.

Neal moved to get up, but Peter pushed him back down.

"Oh no you don't," Peter gound out menacingly.

Neal gulped.

Peter pulled Neal back into position without much resistance from Neal, pulled Neal to his hip and raised his right knee so as to get a better target, picked up the hairbrush, and began the spanking again in earnest.

"Nooo!" Neal roared pitifully, jumping and yipping at every connection of the brush. He hadn't seen Peter pick up the brush, and wasn't prepared.

Just as before, Peter focused all of his swats on Neal's sit spots. The skin turned a momentary white after each swat from the thick, wooden hairbrush, before turning a brighter and brighter shade of red each time.

Neal couldn't help twitching with each connection of the brush, and was soon whimpering pitifully, "I didn't mean to kick you! I'm sorry!"

"You need to start thinking about the consequences of your actions _before_ you act," Peter scolded. "When I forbid you from something, it's to keep you safe!"

"I know," Neal insisted as his vision blurred.

"I don't think that you do! We've come back to this too many times, and I'm gonna make damn sure the message gets through to you this time, Neal! We're not losing you!"

"I'll do better!" Neal cried out. "Just stop," he whimpered, tears of pain beginning to fall.

"I'm afraid we've got a long way to go, and there will be extra for that kick, too," Peter told him sadly.

Neal couldn't hold back the sob that answer pulled from him, and he buried his head in his arms on the floor as Peter continued to light into him with the brush. Soon more sobs were torn from him, both from the intense pain of the spanking, but also from the thoughts and feelings he'd been hiding from.

He knew why both Peter and El were so angry with him. They had every right to be, if he were honest with himself. Here he was grieving the loss of Kate, and at the same time he was risking his own life in order to get away from that grief. It was a stupid, extremely selfish thing to be doing.

"How do you think we'd feel if we lost you?" he heard Peter scolding. "How could I come home and tell Elizabeth that I lost you?! …what would we do?!" Hearing the emotion in Peter's voice made Neal cry harder; not just because he felt guilty, but also because he knew he was loved.

"You won't lose me," Neal tried to soothe over his tears.

"You're [swat] not [swat] invincible [swat swat swat]!" Peter yelled at him.

"Owwwwwwwww, Peter!" Neal screeched, raising his torso up just by tightening his abdominal muscles. "I KNOW, I KNOW!"

"Then [swat] start [swat] _acting_ [swat swat] like it [swat]," Peter lectured.

"I will! I promise!" Neal said, rolling his hips side to side involuntarily to try and escape the brush.

"Lay still!" Peter scolded.

"I'm trying, I can't," Neal answered honestly.

Peter stopped so that he could trap Neal's legs in between his own. He saw that Neal's bottom was just starting to show the beginnings of bruising and he decided to wrap things up.

Neal didn't even try to fight Peter as his legs were trapped, and instead just sniffled and wiped at his face, waiting for the spanking to start up again. He was finally beginning to feel the peace he knew would come from pushing Peter – the feeling of safety and of certainty that he had been missing since Kate's plane exploded and since Sara had pointed a gun in his face. Feeling his tears stop, he took a deep, cleansing breath as he felt a heavy weight lifted from his psyche.

"You have to understand that you're family to us, Neal. I'd never go so far for just anyone. You matter to us, and we're not going to sit by and watch you hurt yourself," Peter told him. "I know you've been through a lot. You're hurting, I get that, El gets that – but that doesn't excuse this. If you need to talk, then talk – that stuffs hard for me, too, but I'm here. Okay?"

"Okay," Neal answered softly. He looked up at Peter and gave a small smile, "Thanks Peter"

"Any time," Peter said, smiling back. His face then grew more solemn, "About that kick."

Neal winced, "I'd hoped you forgot about that."

"Not a chance," Peter said, rubbing the side of his head again and then grinning, "Especially when my ear is still ringing."

"I really am sorry about that," Neal said suavely, and Peter knew his friend was going to be ok.

"Let's just make sure of that," Peter told him, setting the brush down. He intended to use his hand for the rest of the spanking.

Neal heaved a great sigh, "Any chance seats behind home plate at a Yankees game would help my cause? Because I can get those!"

"No. No bribing for you. It won't help you in the long run," Peter answered playfully.

"I'm pretty sure it would," Neal tried. "The Cardinals and the Red Sox are both coming soon…"

Peter took a deep breath and wrinkled his chin. It _was_ tempting, but he knew it'd undermine his authority. Raising his hand in the air he asked, "You ready?"

Neal turned away and asked, "If I say no will it keep you from starting?"

Peter let his hand fall on Neal's left thigh, "No."

"Yeow!" Neal hollered, surprised by how much it stung.

Peter hit the same place repeatedly until Neal screeched, "Move somewhere else!"

Peter obliged, focusing all his attention on Neal's right thigh all in the same place so that Neal had matching red marks on each thigh.

"Ouch! _Peter!_" Neal yelled in exasperation, bouncing over Peter's lap with each stinging swat.

"Don't kick people," Peter told him.

"Okay, okay – I won't kick people," Neal said in an irritated and put out voice.

Peter popped him on his sit spots, which made Neal howl, "What did I say about the attitude?"

"You said enough with the attitude," Neal answered in earnest.

"Good boy," Peter said, going back to Neal's thighs.

"Are you going to kick and elbow me anymore?"

"No!" Neal answered immediately over hisses of pain.

"Have you learned this lesson?"

"Yes!" Neal answered just as quickly.

Peter stopped and shook out his hand as he released Neal's legs. "Good."

Neal rose up to his knees instantly and rubbed some of the sting out of his bottom and thighs before pulling his boxer briefs up.

Peter handed him a handful of tissues, which Neal grabbed and cleaned his face with quickly.

Peter smirked at him and said, "Have you learned not to make Mommy and Daddy angry?"

Neal rolled his eyes and blushed, "Pee-terrrr." He clambered up to stand and pulled his jeans up, hissing as they went over his swollen cheeks.

Peter stood up and pulled Neal into a hug. Neal rested his head on Peter's shoulder and let himself be rocked for a long moment, squeezing Peter tightly. "I'm sorry I scared you. I really shouldn't of done that."

Peter put a hand on the back of Neal's neck and looked him straight in the eye. "It wasn't just boredom today, was it?" Peter asked sympathetically.

"No," Neal admitted.

"You need to talk?"

"No, I don't think so," Neal answered honestly, smiling at the content feeling welling in him. "But if I find that I do, I will."

Peter nodded and gave the back of Neal's neck a gentle squeeze. "You hungry?"

"Starved," Neal responded enthusiastically.

"Why don't you go get El so she can baby you," Peter told him with a smile.

"You gonna tell her about this kick?" Neal asked playfully with wide eyes on his way to the door.

"Yea. I want some babying, too."

"Will she be mad?" Neal asked seriously.

"I'm sure she'll bend you over the table and take a spatula to you," Peter told him straight faced.

"_Really?!_" Neal stopped dead in his tracks.

Peter laughed out a "No," and motioned to him to keep going.

El threw open the door, having heard them approach, and swept Neal up in her arms. "Neal! Are you ok?"

"Peter was very harsh with me," Neal said solemnly. "I might never sit again."

El pulled back and gave him an amused look, "Well, that's too bad. I'm serving duck tonight and I was hoping you could sit and join us."

"Duck?" Neal asked with interest.

El and Peter both laughed, and the three shared a wonderful family dinner together.

The end.


End file.
